


Delusional Justice

by Evenseven



Category: Gomorra - La Serie | Gomorrah (TV)
Genre: Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, POV First Person, PWP without Porn, Random & Short, S2E05 Canon Divergence, aka 2k words of mumbling, aka THE Teriste meeting, double ficlets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2019-11-20
Packaged: 2021-02-13 17:48:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21498067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evenseven/pseuds/Evenseven
Summary: "Ethics are the limit of the loser, the protection of the defeated, the moral justification for those who haven't managed to gamble everything and win it all."
Relationships: Ciro Di Marzio/Gennaro "Genny" Savastano
Kudos: 2





	Delusional Justice

**Author's Note:**

> November entry.  
In case anyone never read _Ras Alhague (Alpha Ophiuchi)_ by sentenza, go read cos this one is just the low-budget version of a pov take in Teriste.

Gennaro Savastano is a piece of shit, no, worse than a piece of shit, at least a piece of shit stays at the place where it belongs, but he doesn’t. This motherfucker wants me dead, so be it, do it, end everything, and at the very last moment he fled like the clown he is. We had an agreement before, but Gennaro came in with a fucking gun. Who knows how did he smuggle that pistole in here? Maybe he had it stuck up his ass, I wouldn’t doubt.

To be honest, I should have known better, thinking the agreement was good enough for a piece of shit like him. Mental note, I should always prepare a plan B. But then, this little fucker doesn’t even worth my effort of making a back-up plan, because he is just too weak and pathetic. The second I thought his eyes blinking like that, a specific way he had been doing ever since I knew him, tells me he is doing nothing but bluffing, that he was just trying to act tough but failed to elaborate his opponent.

He is against me, and I know the little Gennarino so well that I understand what it needs for me to turn the table. So I shouted to his face, telling him to pull the trigger, knowing he would not be able to do so in his current state.

I raised from the cold hotel flood as he walked out the door, slammed it close to show how angry he was. Whatever, I am the one should be mad here, I don’t give too much of a fuck of his feeling now.

It really took me a lot of effort to restrict myself from punching him right in that grim face the second he dropped his pistol. How much I hate this, kneeling in front of someone, and he probably knew I hate it to bits, that’s why he made me drop on my knees. I would do it to save myself from a much worse situation, but it doesn’t mean I’m gonna enjoy this pitiful state. And it just added another strike to our feud, not that it looked much prettier before, but the thing between me and Gennaro is not gonna end today, no matter how much we pretend to maintain the peace.

For a second I really regret my decision, I should’ve just listened to Rossa’, and done what everyone down Napoli wants, to eliminate all Savastano and cleanse the whole system. Fuck the peace, fuck Gennaro and that old bastard father of his.

However, it’s only for a split second, that I wanted to bust his brain out and made it as bloody as it could be in my head. Truth to be told, only peace can bring more money, more resource, more power, before I acquire enough strength to make the final strike and take down the old system all at once.

This thing between me and Gennaro will be set, one day, one way or another. With my blood on his hands, or hopeful, his blood on mine.

He had missed his one chance to take my life, mainly because he is just that weak and pathetic. I knew I was the one pulling the string, even with my knees crashing to the flood and his gun kissing my forehead. He believes he’s a hot shit now coming back from a trip to another side of the world, but absolutely no, he is still that stupid and arrogant spoiled shithead, easy to manipulate once I show some tears and honey words. I know his kind, those privileged shitheads who believe that they can train me as a dog by forcing me to kneel, but they aren’t any better than me once their arms have been torn down. Fighting with bare hands, they won’t be able to take even one punch of mine.

“You’re nothing, you’re shit, a snake, a fucking whore, that’s what you are.” He had sneered at my face after I played the card of Deborah, with the aid of that pistole, forcing me to admit I’m nothing but a whore.

What a hypocrite he is! Like he wasn’t the one wiggling his tail and begging for attention. Like he wasn’t the one licking my ass like he’s licking a vanilla ice cream. He was only taking out on me, insulting me as a way to vent his rage, because he can’t win it otherwise. He just wanted to provoke some more emotion from me, because he knew I’m no longer by his side and he can no longer lick my ass.

I’m not stupid, I know exactly what he wants from me.

He is no way near a fag, but he wants me as a fuck doll, a pet he can feed and squeeze the way he likes, a friend with benefits when he gets bored. And arrogant bastards like him, get furious and call me filthy as soon as they find out I’m capable of more. They just can’t stand the fact that they are worthless, incompetent, failures. They react with rage because they know they are not as good as me.

Not that I was helping much before, but Gennaro Savastano wouldn’t be half as capable now if there weren’t me by his side. He was always that useless dumb kid who knew nothing about business and the system, couldn’t even fire a gun properly, despite all the luxury resource he had. He still is. But at least back in the old days he was trying to learn one thing a two, from that certainly cunning but not too stupid father of his. After Honduras, surly he knows how to fire a gun now, but I don’t think his brain even functions anymore.

We could have been friends, to be honest, and that would have been good for both of us, or his family, if he was not such a cocky bastard and decided to ruin our relationship back then. I didn’t mean any harm to him, not at the very beginning at least. I wasn’t lying before when I said we could take down the whole Naples together, the whole Italy together, me and him.

But apparently I wasn’t fucking good enough for him. Whatever, I don’t care about that piece of shit anyway.

And since he had made the first move to let me rot in that shithole square his bitch mother put me into, it really wasn’t my fault when I revenged on him or his family. He wasn’t even trying to make up for our relationship, including the time I went to see him at his house, I had let my lips press on the corner of this mouth and he had pushed my face away with one hand, snarling at me to either get naked or get out.

So I punched him in the face, not too hard to break his nose but hard enough to make it a declaration of war between us.

He laughed at my face, told me I’m a whore and a manipulating shit, I punched him again. I was at luck he didn’t shoot me right there that day, but the rage and humiliation I felt was too much for me to keep my calm. That was the time I knew he did not care shit about me, whatever we had done and said before, means nothing to him.

Gennaro wants to throw away his past and move on to a brighter future, and I am just a shameful part of the past he wants to discard.

For a moment, at a time, I thought I meant something else, something more to him.

I was so wrong, and I paid my price, and now he dared to come back at me with a stupid plastic gun, just to tell me I was the one that failed him all along.

I should have just busted his brain out, to teach him a lesson, that what I did was the justice, to avenge his shit insult, that cunt Donna Imma, and every drop of my sweat every time he had me ass up on the bed. I meant him no harm yet he did vice to me instead, and that was _him_ committing an injustice to me. This is the only way of judgment in this curl world, this hopeless darkness.*

He wants a war, that’s fine, what’s due will come in the end, but for now I have to wait just a bit longer. We are here for a negotiation, and he’ll have to agree with the condition I make, after all these drama of tonight he’ll have nothing to say tomorrow. I could see it in his eyes that I won, again, and it wouldn’t take much time for him to sell out his father to me. He should be thanking me that taking down the old bastard is doing him a favor, that he can finally be the main man in the house like he always wanted.

I still remember the days when we were in the good term, he would plant wet kisses all over my neck and shoulders, whisper to my ears that one day he will become the boss, become another successful Savastano that everyone has to obey him, respect him, bow down to him instead of his father, and I would be his right hand man. I know those promises are meaningless, but I didn’t expect it hurt so much when he snarl at me to call me a whore.

It hurt not because of the accusation is groundless, but the fact that he made it sound so easy, so effortless, so cheap. He made it sound like everything I had done and achieved came from whoring myself on him or anyone else that’s worth paying with my body. He made it sound like I enjoyed it. I never did. I hate everything about that. After all these years I had thought he would treat me with at least some respect. That piece of ungrateful shit have no idea how I struggled to make my way up in the system, how much I sacrificed to make a life, how much blood I lost and took to linger on this disgusting world. Gennaro would never know how I started as a boy pusher for light drugs, earning every dim in the middle of the crown in a football game and before the university gate. He would never know how I have to earn the trust and prove my capability even before becoming a lookout, risking my own neck to keep the bossiness going for his family. He would never know how many revolting shitheads I had met and bowed my head down to, in order to survive and claim up the system. He would never know that because he wasn’t even born, when I started to exchange my own flesh and blood for a piece of bread.

I light up a cigarette, sit on the bedside and smoke one by another, until I can feel the nicotine running over my body and cleansing my chaotic brain.

I had thought, absurdly, at least with Gennaro, things were different and I was another being, another man who won’t be disgusted at himself in the darkest nook of the night.

A subtle feeling of bitter on the back of my tongue is telling me to end this, end everything all in once. The pain is strong but I am stronger, much more stronger. If it means nothing at all to him, I won’t spare any mercy when I have my way at the end.

I was never going to.

The earthquake is coming, it took everything from me once, now it has to give it all back, whether Gennaro like it or not, I won’t be stopped by nothing, not for him or anyone.

**Author's Note:**

> * “If someone offends you, treats you wrong, he is committing an injustice; id instead he treats you with goodwill, he does you justice. (…) These are the standards of judgment. They are enough. They have to be. This is the only real way to evaluate justice.” - _Gomorrah_ by Roberto Saviano, translated by Virginia Jewiss.  
Summary, is as well in the same chapter of the book.
> 
> I tried not to touch too much on Ciro's past since the canon is coming out next month(which, Christmas came early!), but it was also adopted from the book.


End file.
